


with the lights on

by carleton97



Series: +44 [1]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-01
Updated: 2008-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-12 09:29:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carleton97/pseuds/carleton97
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank is weirdly chivalrous in some ways. He always opens doors for her, he lights her cigarettes like he's in a forties movie or something, and he always offers her the last seat, even if it means that he has to sit on the floor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	with the lights on

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://fallingfortruth.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://fallingfortruth.livejournal.com/)**fallingfortruth** in the Bandom Het Fic Exchange. My heartfelt apologies for the extreme lateness of the story; hopefully, the sheer pornyness will help make up for that.
> 
> Thanks to: [](http://farwing.livejournal.com/profile)[**farwing**](http://farwing.livejournal.com/) and [](http://saturnalia.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://saturnalia.livejournal.com/)**saturnalia** for beta-reading.

The world is tilting around her. Well, technically, it's probably that _she's_ tilting, but right now it feels like she's the only thing steady in the middle of a darkened funhouse, or maybe a storm-tossed sea. Whatever. Gee is, she has to admit, a bit too drunk to come up with fancy metaphors.

So Mikey knows this couple somehow, Nick and Kat-with-a-K, who own a huge old farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. (It's not clear exactly how Mikey knows them, but based on the way that both Nick and Kat-with-a-K have been draping themselves all over Mikey, Gee could probably make an educated guess.) Anyway, the important part is that they're willing to let the band sleep at their house for free, on real beds. Considering that they slept on someone's basement floor last Tuesday, the thought of real beds was more than enough incentive for them to drive an hour and a half out of their way.

Plus, Nick and Kat-with-a-K throw a seriously bitchin' bonfire party. They've got this huge, overgrown backyard with a big fire-pit, no neighbors nearby, and enough alcohol to sink a fucking battleship. It's enough to make Gee almost forget her grudge against upstate New York, where they seriously once got a ticket for going three fucking miles over the speed limit. (She's got this whole rant about how it was just because of their Jersey plates, but the guys have threatened to gag her if she starts in on it again.)

Everyone else (which includes the rest of My Chem, one of the local bands that played with them in Buffalo, a few random crew members, their hosts and their hipster friends) is hanging out around the bonfire and the keg, laughing and shouting. Gee grabbed a bottle of rum off the drinks table when they first got there (she made sure that the bottle was still sealed, because they don't really know these people, after all) and made a beeline for a plastic lounge chair out on the lawn. It's far enough back from the bonfire that she's mostly hidden in the shadows, so she can smoke and drink without needing to pretend to be social.

She's not upset about anything in particular, she's just... melancholy, she figures, is the right word for it. She's having the kind of night where she's glad that they took "Cubicles" off the regular set list, because there's only so much soul-baring honesty she can deal with right now. Fuck this shit, though, she needs to stop wallowing in her own fucking self-pity. "Suck it up and deal, Gee," she mutters.

Gee fumbles her cigarette pack out of her hoodie pocket and discovers that she's down to her last one. Shit. This needs to be remedied.

Sitting up, she swings her legs over the edge of the lounge chair and prepares to lurch to her feet. It's harder to stand up than sitting down had been, for some reason. Her first attempt results in her dropping her unlit cigarette and damn near dropping the rum, too, which would have been a total disaster.

So she's sitting on the edge of the lounge chair, carefully placing the bottle on the ground so that it won't spill, when someone crash-lands behind her, nearly tipping the chair over. "Fuck!" Gee yelps, grabbing onto the edge of the chair with both hands.

"Gee, Gee Way, you gotta hide me," Frank gasps, grabbing her around the waist and tugging her backwards. She flails for a second, trying to keep her balance, but it's a lost cause. Frank might be two or three inches shorter than her, but he's a wiry little shit, and there's very little that's harder to shake off than a determined Frank Iero. Plus, she's kind of drunk. So she goes sprawling back against him as he tries to burrow behind her, which results in a painful collision between one of his knees and her back.

"Frank, what the hell?" Gee demands, blindly punching whatever part of his body is most convenient (his thigh, as it turns out.)

"Ow, ow, my leg," Frank whines, but he's laughing at the same time, so Gee isn't too concerned about it. "Seriously, you gotta hide me. Otter's on a rampage. He's gonna kill me." Frank squirms and pushes until he's sitting with his legs on either side of hers and his arms wrapped around her middle, his chin digging uncomfortably into her shoulder.

"And you have no idea why Otter would want to kill you, is that it?" Frank shakes his head violently, buzzed-short hair tickling the side of her neck. "Right," Gee drawls. "You do realize that you're not really hidden at all, don't you? He's totally gonna see you if he comes over here."

She can feel Frank shrug. "Yeah, but now he's gotta go through you first."

"So I'm your meat shield? Nice, asshole." Gee pokes him in the side, making Frank twitch and giggle a little. She doesn't go for a full-out tickle attack, because Frank is horribly ticklish and fucking merciless with his retaliation, and she's at a bit of a disadvantage with Frank wrapped around her like a damn octopus.

It was hot earlier in the day but the temperature dropped sharply after the sun went down, so she was actually getting a little cold in just a thin hoodie and jeans. But she's toasty warm now, because Frank puts out heat like a fucking furnace unless he's sick. (He can't get warm when he's sick, no matter what, just shivers miserably and steals everyone else's blankets. It's impossible to get mad at him for it, though, because a sick Frank is just pathetic.) Frank doesn't make quite as good a pillow as he used to, but even the new, touring-skinny Frank is pretty comfortable to lean on.

"Hey, you got a cigarette? You made me drop my last one, fucker," she adds, even though it was actually because she's drunk and clumsy, not because Frank leaped onto the chair like a flying squirrel.

"Yeah, hang on," Frank says, squirming to get a hand into his jeans pocket, his knuckles digging into her lower back. "Got it."

Instead of just handing her a cigarette and his lighter like a normal person would, he lights the cigarette first and hands it to her before lighting one for himself. Frank is weirdly chivalrous in some ways. He always opens doors for her, he lights her cigarettes like he's in a forties movie or something, and he always offers her the last seat, even if it means that he has to sit on the floor.

She's broken him of some of those habits, though; if there aren't enough seats, he's more likely to sit in her lap than on the floor these days. And he hasn't tried to push her chair in at a restaurant since the first time, when she told him that she wasn't elderly or an invalid, and if he tried it again she'd punch him in the nads. The door thing is a lost cause; the only thing she can do is try to get to the door first, so that she can hold it for him (smirking at him the whole time, of course). For some reason, though, she really likes the way he lights her cigarettes.

When they first started hanging out with Frank, back when he was _Frank Iero_ from fucking _Pencey Prep_ , the chivalry thing used to confuse the hell out of her. She was used to hanging out with fellow geeks, who treated her like one of the guys. (She's fairly sure that some of the regulars at her favorite comic book shop thought that she actually _was_ a guy.) And in the non-geek world, well. She was chubby, shy, artsy, and weird. Swore like a sailor, could (and would) argue Green Lantern versus Green Arrow for hours, and wore shapeless black hoodies over black tee-shirts and black jeans pretty much every day. Not exactly the kind of girl that guys opened doors for. So when Frank (who was hot, even with his puppy fat and his ugly-ass white boy dreads) started paying attention to her? Yeah, she kind of had a crush on him. Just for a little while.

They smoke in silence for a few minutes, Frank's left arm looped loosely around her waist, her head resting on his shoulder. Gee watches the flickering lights of fireflies among the scrubby trees and overgrown lawn that stretches off into the darkness beyond the light of the bonfire. It's weird, being out in the middle of nowhere like this. Over by the bonfire, the party appears to be in full swing, but the noise of the party dies before it even reaches them, swallowed up by the immense silence of the countryside. "It's quiet," Gee says, just for something to say.

"Too quiet," Frank responds automatically. But instead of being funny, it's kind of eerie, with all that empty space stretching away from them where anything could be hiding. Anything at all. Gee shivers.

"Cold?" Frank asks. She makes a noncommittal noise, not willing to admit that she's freaking out about how fucking creepy the countryside is. Just because Frank is weirdly chivalrous doesn't mean that he won't mock her just as pitilessly as he does any of the guys. "Hey, sit up a sec."

Gee scoots forward on the lounge chair, half-turning to watch Frank flailing as he pulls his hoodie off. "I'm already wearing a hoodie," she points out. "And now you're gonna be cold, too."

Frank's hair is sticking straight up (well, the little not-really-a-mohawk on top is, anyway, the rest of it is too short to tell), and he's grinning at her like he just discovered the Misfits or something. "Nah, we'll huddle together for warmth. You wouldn't let me freeze to death, would you, Gee?"

She wrinkles her nose and pretends to have to think about it for a few seconds. "Weeeeeelll... I guess we'd have a tough time finding another short, obnoxious rhythm guitarist who'll throw himself around stage like a muppet on speed."

Frank points at her accusingly. "You've been saving that shit up, haven't you? See if I'll share my hoodie now. Muppet on speed," he grumbles. "At least tell me I'm a cool muppet, like the bandleader dude."

Gee rolls her eyes at him. "You are totally the coolest muppet around. You've got, like, muppet groupies and shit."

"Well, all right then." Frank fumbles around with the arms of the lounge chair until he manages to make it recline most of the way, then lies down and pats the chair invitingly. "Wanna snuggle for warmth, Gee Way?"

Gee is about to say something about that sounding like a line-- because it so sounds like cheesy soft-core porn on Skinemax-- when there's a bellow from the direction of the bonfire. "Frank Iero! You little asshole, I'm gonna fucking _kill_ you!" It's unmistakably Otter's voice.

"Oh shit!" The two of them trade wide-eyed glances. The look on Frank's face is a combination of "Fuck, he's gonna kill me!" and "Fuck, I'm about to fall over laughing, and then he'll kill me even more." It's a very familiar look; Frank tends to make Otter homicidal at least once a week.

Gee stands up, spreading her arms to try to hide Frank behind her. "You run, I'll distract him," she hisses over her shoulder. Otter has never followed through on his threats of Frank-dismemberment, but there's always a first time.

"What are you doing?" Frank asks, grabbing her shoulders. "We've gotta make a break for it!"

"IERO!" In the flickering light of the bonfire (which is ridiculously huge at this point-- she thinks someone may have dumped a couch on it or something) she can just make out the shape of Otter, stomping towards them. Ray is trailing behind him, trying to calm him down, if she knows Ray.

"Oh, fuck!" Gee hisses. Otter sounds fucking _pissed_. "What did you do?"

"No time to explain! Just run! Run like your fucking life depends on it!"

They're both laughing hysterically as they run, stumbling on the uneven, overgrown lawn in the dark. Frank grabs her hand and pulls her along, which makes Gee almost fall over and take him with her. She's still drunk, and she's pretty sure Frank is too. They zigzag across the lawn and cut behind a big detached garage. Gee leans against the garage's siding, panting and still laughing a little. Frank sneaks along the garage towards the other side and peeks around the corner.

"Coast is clear, and there's some bushes for cover. Let's go." He actually sounds like he knows what he's doing, which shouldn't surprise Gee as much as it does. She knows that he was a fucking juvenile delinquent in high school (yeah, she's heard the story of him slashing his ex's tires.) But there's a difference between knowing, intellectually, that Frank is a little punk who used to sneak out of high school and cause trouble, and seeing him in action. "Come on!" Frank hisses, waving her forward.

"Where are we even going? We're in the middle of fucking nowhere!"

Frank grins. "The house, of course. Otter's gonna expect us to go for the van or something, and by the time he's done looking for us there, Ray will have talked him down-- uh, probably." He coughs and looks innocent (or as innocent as Frank can manage, anyway, which isn't very.)

"You're going to have to tell me what the hell you did eventually," Gee says, frowning at him.

Frank does that thing where his eyes get all huge and tragic. "Don't you trust me?"

Gee rolls her eyes. "I trust you fine-- it's just that I _know_ you."

Frank smirks and grabs her hand, pulling her along again. They run from the shelter of the garage, across the lawn, to the back door of the house. Gee finds herself giggling again. It's fucking ridiculous, like something from Mission: Impossible. Frank shushes her and tries the back door, which swings open easily, revealing a big, old-fashioned kitchen.

They look at each other and simultaneously say, "Score."

"We require more beer. Oh, and chips," Frank says, heading for the refrigerator. "Or cookies, I could totally go for cookies right now."

Gee pokes around in the cupboards, finding plates, bowls, and the largest collection of coffee mugs she's ever seen, but no food. "Where the hell do they put their-- oh, hey," she says, spotting a set of narrow swinging doors with louvered slats, almost hidden in a corner between two sets of cabinets. Swinging open the doors, she finds that her suspicion was correct. It's a narrow, cramped walk-in pantry that was probably a back hallway originally, now filled from floor to ceiling with cabinets and shelves.

"Beer," Frank announces unnecessarily as he slides a cold bottle against the side of her neck. Gee lets out a strangled scream and whips around, glaring at him.

"Hey, did you hear that?" a loud, drunken-sounding male voice demands. "Iero, you little asshole, where are you?" It sounds like he's just outside the kitchen. Gee grabs Frank and pulls him into the pantry just as they hear the sound of tromping boots entering the kitchen. She's sandwiched between a low counter and his body, afraid to move an inch, because the louvered pantry doors aren't going to muffle any noise they make. The quiet clink of Frank putting the bottles of beer down on a nearby shelf sounds like thunder to her ears.

"Matt, come on," Ray says. "It's just Frank, you know how he is. He's a little shit sometimes, but he doesn't mean any harm by it."

"Yeah, he _is_ an obnoxious little shit, and _Guinevere_ lets him get away with fucking murder," Otter says snidely. Sonofabitch, he knows how much Gee hates her given name. Gee draws breath, ready to yell at Otter, but Frank puts a hand firmly over her mouth. Gee lets the breath out slowly through her nose, glaring at him.

"He's not that bad, Matt. He's just--"

Otter cuts Ray off. "The only reason she doesn't see what a destructive little punk he is-- the _only_ reason-- is that she wants him. _Bad_. Shit, if it weren't for that, he'd have been out the door a long time ago."

Frank's eyes narrow and he whips around, obviously about to storm out of the pantry. Gee gets her arms and one leg hooked around him just in time to pull Frank back bodily. He loses his balance and falls back against her, causing Gee to crash painfully into the low countertop behind her, probably bruising the hell out of her ass. Fortunately, the sound of Ray yelling at Otter, telling him he's out of line, and Otter blustering right back at him covers the sound of their brief scuffle.

Frank's body is a line of pure tension, his arms straining against her hold. He's going to break free in a second. Gee's pretty sure that if Otter and Frank get into a fight right now, while they're both drunk and belligerent, one or the both of them is going to end up in the emergency room. Gee puts her mouth against his ear and asks quietly, "Do you trust me?" Frank nods, slowly. "Then you've gotta trust me to handle Otter."

Frank's voice is as close to a growl as she's ever heard it. "I can't just let him say that shit about you."

Otter is putting out a solid wall of noise about Frank, what a fuck he is, and what Otter is going to do to him as soon as Gee stops "thinking with her cunt." Gee promises herself that the next time she has to climb over him to get out of the van, she's going to "accidentally" kick Otter in the balls. Frank makes a low, furious noise at the word "cunt," which Gee thinks is pretty hilarious considering she's heard him use it more than once when talking about his ex-girlfriends (not Jamia, though, who's the only one of his exes he still talks to.)

"Frank." Gee leans her temple against the side of his head, still holding onto him even though he's not trying to pull away anymore. "You have to trust me to know how to handle my band. I've known Otter for a lot longer than you have, and I know that he says a lot of shit that he doesn't really mean when he's drunk and pissed off."

It's not something she brings up all that often, the fact that this is _her_ band. She's the one who called up Ray and Otter and told them she wanted to save the world with music (Ray was totally enthusiastic about saving the world; Otter was just drunk enough not to laugh at the idea too much.) She's the one who said, "Yeah, of course, Mikey, you know I'd never do this without you," when Mikey brought up the fact that he'd kinda been learning how to play the bass. And she's the one who convinced Ray that they needed another guitarist to fill out their sound when Pencey Prep broke up.

Frank sighs, slumping back against her. "Okay, fine. But if he ever says that shit to your face, I make no fucking promises that I won't throw him through a fucking _window_."

Gee laughs under her breath. "Fair enough. Hey, Frank-- turn around for a sec." Frank, looking curious, turns to face her. Gee puts her hands on his shoulders and meets his eyes, taking a deep breath. "You know that you're not in this band just because you're hot, right?"

Frank's eyes widen for a split second before he collapses against her, burying his face in her shoulder to muffle the sound of his laughter. "What? What?" Gee hisses as quietly as possible.

Frank is fucking _shaking_ with laughter, his hands balled up in her hoodie on either side of his mouth. "Shut up, it wasn't _that_ funny," Gee snaps, forgetting to be quiet.

They both hold their breath for a second, listening, but the sound of Ray and Otter's conversation goes on uninterrupted.

Frank raises his head from her shoulder, finally. He wipes the grin off his face and whispers, trying and failing to sound serious, "Thanks, Gee. I was concerned that you might be keeping me around for my hunk of burning-- manlyness--" Frank wheezes, trying to keep from laughing again. Gee rolls her eyes at him. He darts in quickly, obviously going for a loud, smacking kiss on her cheek (he does that at least twice a week, she swears) but misjudges the distance and ends up kissing the edge of her mouth instead. Frank freezes, his mouth soft against her skin.

Gee is abruptly aware of exactly how intimate their position is. They're pressed up against each other from knees to chest. Her legs are spread a bit to keep her balance as her weight rests partially on the low counter that's digging into the curve of her ass, so for once she and Frank are exactly the same height. His crotch is pressed against hers, and she's pretty damn sure that he's getting turned on. She knows she is.

Ray and Otter are still talking in the kitchen, but it suddenly seems very far away from their little bubble of silence in the pantry. Gee squirms a little, just trying to keep the counter that's pressed into the junction of her thighs and ass from cutting off her circulation entirely, and Frank makes a tiny sound in his throat and pushes his hips against her. And, yeah, he's definitely getting hard. Gee squirms again, deliberately this time.

Frank pulls back, raising his eyebrows at her and looking a little uncertain. He silently mouths, "Gee?" His body is anything but uncertain, though, his hands sliding down her sides to rest on the curve of her hips, warm through the fabric of her jeans.

Gee closes her eyes for a second, trying to figure out what the hell she's doing. She should think this through, she should not do something that might fuck up their friendship and their band, but Frank is so close and smells so good, and she's been wondering for over a year if he feels this too.

She opens her eyes and nods, whispers as quietly as she can, "Yeah."

Frank's grin is quick and sharp as he leans back in and whispers what might be, "fucking finally," against the corner of her mouth. Gee's pretty sure if Frank weren't winding his arms around her and pressing his tongue between her lips, she'd be doing a victory lap around the kitchen.

Gee slides her hands up his arms and shoulders, stroking the short-buzzed hair at the back of his head. Ever since he buzzed his hair, her fingers have been fairly itching with the urge to touch, find out if it's as soft as it looks. And it is.

Frank is an aggressive kisser, but then again, so is she. He presses her back against the counter, one hand on her hip, the other sliding up her side and into her hair. His fingers tangle in her hair and tug once, firmly, and Gee makes a small noise into his mouth.

Frank pulls back a fraction of an inch, breathing into her open mouth as he tugs on her hair again. She manages to swallow down most her tiny whimper, but enough gets through to make Frank's hips stutter against hers, grinding up into her and forcing her legs farther apart as her feet slide on the worn linoleum.

And the hair-pulling thing is not something she's ever been particularly comfortable about with any of her other partners, but with Frank-- jesus, she'd do so many completely fucking filthy things with him. If they ever get out of this fucking pantry, if Otter _ever_ stops running his fucking mouth. Frustrated, Gee bites Frank's lower lip, harder than she intended to. His hips buck against her again. Gee makes a mental note that biting appears to be a Good Thing with Frank.

Frank uses the hand he still has tangled in her hair to turn her head to the side so that he can whisper directly into her ear, "Can you be quiet, or am I gonna need to gag you?" Gee honestly can't help the whimper that breaks free at that thought, sounding terrifyingly loud in the cramped confines of the pantry. They both freeze again, but Otter is in love with his own voice and probably wouldn't even hear a fucking freight train if it was bearing down on him. Gee takes a moment to enjoy that particular mental image.

"That answers that." And then Frank is kissing her again, fucking into her mouth with his tongue as he slides his hand out of her hair and down her front. He gropes her quickly, squeezing her boob and thumbing over her nipple before dropping his hand the rest of the way down and unfastening her pants. He claps a hand over her mouth just as he shoves his hand into her tight jeans and under the band of her underwear.

Holy shit. Gee bites her own lip, trying not to make a sound, as Frank slides two fingers through the slickness between her legs, just enough to slick them up, and then right into her cunt, no fucking around and teasing first. He's got fucking strong fingers-- guitarist's fingers, callused and rough at the tips-- and it's almost too much, his fingers unerringly finding her g-spot and pressing on it as his thumb flicks against her clit.

Gee's sneakers are slipping on the linoleum again. She has to grab the edge of the counter so that she won't just slide down to the floor. Frank's strong, compact body pressing against her is most of what's holding her up right now. His hand is over her mouth and she can't fucking move, and if her brain weren't melting right out her ears she might be a little disturbed by how much this is turning her on.

He's got his mouth pressed to her throat, mouthing and biting at the skin there until she knows she's going to have a huge bruise in the morning. She totally doesn't care, though, because it feels like Frank has half of his hand inside of her, she can feel how hard he is against her hip, and she's going to get _so_ lucky tonight.

"And that little punk keeps rushing the tempo--"

If Otter ever shuts his fucking trap.

She's getting so close, so close, she can almost taste it, and Frank just-- stops. She stares at him for a moment, uncomprehending, then wiggles impatiently, trying to get his hand moving again. Frank leans his forehead against hers, his eyes squeezed closed. He looks like he's in pain, which is fair enough, because she was almost about to come and he _stopped_ , the bastard.

"You're a screamer, aren't you?" he whispers, barely loud enough to be heard over the sound of Otter's epic bitchfit in the other room. Gee considers lying for about half a second, but. She'd really prefer not to be discovered like this. Dear god, no. Slowly, she nods.

"Oh, fuck," he whispers, his fingers twitching and sending a fresh pulse of warm sparks through her nervous system. "That's going to be a bit of a problem right now, but-- holy shit. I want to fuck you right through the wall."

Gee swallows back a moan.

Neither one of them moves as Otter segues from the stench of Mikey's duffel bag to the shitty beer outside, even though all Gee wants is to rock her hips against Frankie's hand until she comes. And then maybe turn around and let him push her face down onto the narrow counter. Or slide down to her knees and blow him. Her whole body twitches at the barrage of filthy images in her head and Frank's hand slips a little on her mouth. Just enough for her to suck two of his fingers into her mouth and lick over the rough edges of his calluses, to bite down-- just enough for him to feel it.

Frank shudders against her, pushing his fingers deeper into her mouth and rutting against her hip as the fingers inside her start moving again, pressing in deep, but avoiding both her g-spot and her clit now. She whines quietly in the back of her throat, but Frank just pushes his fingers against her tongue and whispers "shhhh" against the shell of her ear.

She's going to go lose her _mind_ from sheer frustration, but goddamn it, if she's going to go crazy then so is he. Gee sucks on his fingers, her tongue stroking against them like it's his cock in her mouth instead, imagining the salty taste and the stretch of her lips around him. She can keep her balance with only one hand clutching at the counter, so she slides her free hand up his back under his tee-shirt and then claws lightly all the way back down, imagining the thin red lines showing up against the black lines of his tattoos. Frank's fingers spasm inside of her, just on the verge of too-hard, making Gee bite down on his fingers unconsciously.

Frank's hips buck against her and he lets out a soft, almost anguished sound against her ear. They're both breathing hard, sucking air in as quietly as they can manage. Gee is close to the end of her self-control, and she suspects Frank isn't far off from that himself. If Otter and Ray don't get the fuck out of the kitchen soon, she doesn't even know what she'll do.

And then, thank fucking christ, she hears them leaving the kitchen, the outside door swinging closed behind them. They both freeze for a moment, hardly able to believe it. "Holy shit-- Gee, can I-- god, please," Frank is babbling.

"Yeah, yes, yes, just--" Gee gasps, trying to think, but Frank is already shoving her jeans down her thighs and spinning her around to face the counter. Gee grabs onto the edge of the counter and braces herself, because she can't wait either, and she's going to lose her mind if she doesn't come _now_.

She hears Frank fumble for a second with the crinkly condom wrapper from the strip she knows he keeps in his pocket, but then he's pressed up against her back, one hand clamped down on her hip and the other between her legs, holding her open and guiding the head of his dick into her.

He's neither slow nor terribly gentle as he pushes inside her and that is just fine with Gee. She likes that he knows her well enough to know that she doesn't need slow or gentle right now. The way he's almost grunting with effort as he fucks her hard, the way she has to brace herself against the force of his thrusts-- that's exactly how she wants it. Fast and dirty.

Frank's hands are biting into her hips-- he's too turned on to be at all careful. She's pushing back into him and moaning like a cat in heat, her back arched and her head hanging down between her braced arms. He feels huge inside of her, and part of that she knows is the angle, but not all of it, and the part of her brain which is already thinking about doing this again is feeling pretty pleased about that.

She's been so close for so long that her orgasm almost takes her by surprise, her vision whiting out as her cunt clenches around him. She's aware that she's yelling, her voice rising and falling with the waves of her orgasm, but she's not in control right now, no way she can stay quiet. Frank makes a choked noise between his teeth and fucks her through it, his rhythm going ragged and desperate.

After a handful of thrusts that nearly rattle her teeth in her head, Frankie goes still behind her, pushing into her as far as he can before collapsing onto her. Her arms finally give out and she collapses down to her elbows, gasping for breath as the edge of the counter digs into her stomach. Frank is a sweaty weight on her back. Just before she can elbow him off her, he straightens, squeezing her hips and grinding into her with his half hard cock one more time before grabbing the bottom of the condom and pulling out of her with a wet noise.

Gee whimpers, feeling over-sensitized and weirdly empty after he pulls out. "Oh my god," she mutters, clutching at the countertop and trying to push herself back onto her feet. Her legs are like fucking noodles.

"Call me Frank," he says, and her brain is so fried that it takes her a moment to get the old joke. Gee snorts, wobbling to her feet and pulling her jeans back up her thighs. It's satisfying to see that Frank looks just as wrecked as she feels-- eyes half-lidded, lips swollen, jeans still unzipped and sliding down his hips as he deals with the condom.

"Shit," she says, combing her hands through her hair. "I hope nobody came into the kitchen looking for a beer during that."

Frank shrugs. "They're all grown-ups, they can deal. Plus, if anyone did wander in, they're probably just jealous as fuck that _they're_ not getting epically laid in a closet."

Gee laughs, feeling a warm flare of relief that they can still joke with each other, even after _that_. Part of the reason she never made a move-- well, beyond the fact that she never thought Frank was interested in her-- was that she didn't want things to get weird. She'd had too many poorly thought-out hook-ups with friends that had turned uncomfortable and awkward afterwards to be willing to take that chance on someone as important as Frank.

"We should probably get the hell out of here before Otter and Ray come back in or something, and we're trapped in the pantry for another hour or two," she suggests as she zips her hoodie up. (It was probably more like twenty or thirty minutes, but holy shit, it felt like forever.)

"Yeah," Frank mutters, pushing through the swinging doors into the kitchen with slightly excessive force. "Because if I see Otter's fucking face again tonight I'm gonna put my fist right through it."

"...that would kind of fuck with the afterglow, yeah," Gee says, wincing. She's pissed about the shit that Otter said, too, but... fuck, she knows Frank's temper. Gee will yell, if she's pushed far enough to lose her temper; Frank swings punches, and it doesn't take that much to set his temper off.

Frank disposes of the condom and washes his hands quickly, drying them on the thighs of his jeans. "Don't worry, I'd try not to break any bones," he promises, crossing to her where she's hovering awkwardly by the kitchen counter. He slides his arms around her waist and hugs her, full-body, his chin pressing into her shoulder. Gee flails awkwardly for a second before getting herself together and hugging him back. She's more physically affectionate than anyone else in her family, but she's still not used to the way that Frank will hug, pounce on, and drape himself all over the people he cares about.

"Yours or his?" she asks, feeling Frank's chest expand as he sighs contentedly.

"Huh? Oh. Mine. Sucks to try to play guitar with a broken hand." She has absolutely no doubt that he's speaking from personal experience.

"Uh-huh." Gee shakes her head, then rubs her cheek against the soft, short hair at the side of his head. Frank makes a contented noise. They stand there like that for a few minutes. Gee can feel the tension between her shoulder blades start to slowly dissipate.

"Hey, you know what I read in Cosmo the other day?" Frank asks, finally breaking the hug. Gee snickers under her breath-- Frank denies that he's actually addicted to trashy magazines like Cosmo and Mademoiselle, but she's seen him shoplift them more than once. "Apparently, guys who are my age should be dating women your age, because our sex drives are totally in sync. See, the closer a woman gets to thirty--"

Gee smacks him in the arm, laughing. "I'm only four years older than you!"

"That's what I'm saying!" Frank exclaims, his eyes wide and mock-innocent.

"You little--" They're both laughing again as Gee chases Frank up the stairs. Frank lets her catch him on the stairwell and they kiss for several minutes. Gee's suddenly completely turned on again, just about ready to fuck him on the stairwell, and maybe Cosmo does have a point about women's sex drives increasing as they get closer to thirty, because she can't remember being this much of a horndog in high school, or even college. Or maybe that's just Frank's effect on her.

They break apart, panting, and Gee bites his bottom lip sharply before turning and running up the stairs again, feeling Frank close in on her heels. She can't for the life of her remember what room she was supposed to be staying in, and she _so_ does not have the patience to try to figure it out now, so she just opens the first bedroom door she comes to and hopes that it's not already occupied. They're in luck, because there's no one in the room right now. There's a duffel lying by the door, but, well, whoever was supposed to be sleeping in this room tonight is just going to have to find another bed.

Gee is still trying to figure out how to work the old-fashioned lock on the door when Frank plasters himself to her back (probably up on his tip-toes, which would make her laugh again if she weren't too turned on to breathe) and bites the back of her neck, and she melts back into him, moaning. The bolt slides home-- thank god-- and Gee turns and kisses him, all dirty and open. They shuffle back to where she hopes the bed is and Frank goes down hard when it catches him at the back of his knees. He's got his hands up inside her shirt, tracing over the back of her bra, so she goes down with him and he "ooofs" out a breath when she drops onto his chest.

She's blushing and muttering "sorry!" and he sort of blinks up at her and then grins, totally the dirtiest smile she's ever seen on his face. And the thing is, Gee is a few inches taller than him, but he's a _lot_ stronger than she is, so she shouldn't be totally surprised when he just flips her onto her back like it's nothing. Gee makes an undignified squeaking noise and now he's grinning that incredibly dirty smile down at her, and she's pretty sure that she just totally lost control of this situation-- again-- but she doesn't mind. At all.

He's still grinning when he kisses her, biting over her chin and down her throat to where she's got her hoodie zipped up all the way. She's afraid for a second he's going to unzip the stupid thing with his teeth, but he doesn't, he reaches up and pulls the zipper away from her body, careful not to touch her at all as he's unzipping. The little bitch. Once her hoodie is undone, he sits back and watches her flail around until she's free of it. The second she drops it over the side of the bed, he's back on her, pressing her back down onto the bed and running his hands up her sides.

She's so turned on that her nipples are tingling, and she's squirming restlessly because all he's doing is running his hands up her sides and she really, really wants his hands on her breasts. He pauses with his thumbs just barely brushing the bottoms of her breasts. Gee glares at him, biting her bottom lip, and his eyes zero in on her mouth so she does it again, slowly, dragging her teeth over her bottom lip and watching his eyes go darker.

Her own hands are curled around his biceps and she slides them up to tug at the short hair at the back of his head. She's all for self expression, but thank god he got rid of the dreads, really. She tugs again, harder than she meant to and he makes this noise that's almost a growl and grabs the hem of her t-shirt (well, Ray's t-shirt, but all of hers were too dirty for even _her_ to wear again) and yanks it up over her head. He leaves her to untangle it from her arms and mouths a wet path over her chest.

And the thing about the laundry situation is that all of her sensible support bras were beyond filthy, so she's wearing a fancy lace bra, even though it was a gift from her asshole ex-boyfriend and she's not entirely sure why she never threw the damn thing out. She has the fleeting thought that she hopes he doesn't expect she'll be this girly all the time, and then her brain pretty much shorts out because he's licking one of her nipples through the scratchy lace. He nuzzles his face against her breasts, rubbing his slightly-stubbly cheeks against her, and then when her toes are kind of curling from the almost-painful intensity of that sensation, he takes a nipple between his teeth and bites gently, testing whether she likes it, and then harder as Gee moans and rakes her stubby fingernails across his shoulders.

Frank sits back on his heels, straddling her waist. He looks kind of surprised, and he's totally checking out her boobs. Gee huffs a sigh and resists the urge to cross her arms over her chest defensively. "Yes, Frank, I've always been this stacked." There's a little flicker of guilt in his eyes-- he knows she's self-conscious about it. Hard to miss, she guesses, with the way she covers herself up in oversize hoodies and tee-shirts borrowed from Ray and Otter.

"Yeah, I know, I just-- red lace bra? Seriously?"

"Birthday gift from fuckhead asshole." There's no confusion on his face at that; all of the guys know exactly who fuckhead asshole is. Her ex-boyfriend, who Ray (Ray! The nicest guy alive, practically!) punched in the face the last time he showed up, after Gee finally admitted to the guys exactly how bad things had gotten. (Mostly because there was no way that the guys would notice her black eye and the fact that she'd kicked fuckhead asshole out of her life and not be able to put two and two together.) It's a damned good thing Frank wasn't there the day that fuckhead asshole showed up, because the last thing they need is to be stuck trying to get their rhythm guitarist out of jail on an attempted murder rap.

Frank strips the bra off her fast and throws it over his shoulder. "We'll burn it later. Hey, there's a big bonfire out there."

Gee grins up at him. Damn, she likes Frank. "Hey," she says, tugging at the hem of his tee-shirt. "Fair's fair, dude. I showed you mine, you show me yours."

Frank laughs at her a little. "Because you see me shirtless so rarely." He strips off his tee-shirt, tossing it to the side, and settles back on his heels, his hands resting comfortably on his thighs.

It's true that Gee has seen him shirtless a lot, but never quite like this. Never with the knowledge that she could reach out her hand and trace the sparrows on his lower belly without needing to worry about crossing the line between friendly touch and hitting on him. His belly jumps a little under her hand, sleek muscles shifting under a little remnant of his teenage pudge.

Gee slides her hand from his belly up to his chest, feeling his heart beating under her hand, a little fast. He's doing a good impression of calmness, but his rapid heartbeat and the way he can't keep his hands from flexing on his thighs give him away. She traces her fingertips over the flame tattoo, feeling the slight difference in texture between bare skin and ink. Frank sucks in a breath, nostrils flaring, but he stays still.

"Stop being so careful, Frankie. You're kind of freaking me out a little."

Frank wrinkles his nose, looking away. He's embarrassed, but she has no fucking idea why. "I'm trying _not_ to freak you out."

She pokes him in the chest. "Dude, last week you threw yourself into the van soaking wet and naked as the day you were born. I'm not sure how you _could_ freak me out, at this point."

Frank pouts. "That's different."

"What, because you were swearing bloody vengeance against the House of Toro and cackling like a maniac, not trying to get into my pants?"

"Technically, I've already been in your pants tonight," Frank says, mock-primly.

"Uh, yeah, and if _that_ didn't freak me out..." Gee can totally feel herself blushing, the flood of embarrassing bright red starting in her cheeks and spreading halfway down her chest. Frank raises his eyebrows and looks endlessly amused, but doesn't comment. Smart boy.

Frank traces a path down the center of her chest, where pink fades back to white. He looks back at her face when his fingers stray towards her right breast. Gee sucks in a breath at the feel of his rough fingers skating over her nipple, "OK, pants. Pants off now."

"Okay!" Frank says, excessively chirpy, stripping his jeans off and kicking them away. "Let's get naked!" She rolls her eyes at him. He sticks out his tongue and crosses his eyes.

Gee snickers and throws a hand over her eyes. "Jesus fuckin' Christ, we're never going to get around to actually having sex-- uh, again-- we're just going to laugh at each other all night."

"I think that's a challenge," Frank says, sliding backwards until he can get his hands on her waistband. "I bet I can make you stop laughing pretty quick."

"Oh, really," Gee says, trying to sound skeptical but mostly just sounding breathy. Frank makes an mmm-hmm noise against her tummy, nuzzling against the strip of skin just above the waist of her jeans.

He doesn't move back up once he's got her jeans undone and pushed down around her knees, and it makes her tummy feel a little squirmy. She doesn't get this sort of attention very often, what with mostly living in a van with four guys, and it always makes her a little anxious.

Frank's looking at her like-- she doesn't even know what to call it. She's seen him on the make before, and she's seen him turned on, but this looks kind of like he wants to eat her alive. And the moment the thought crosses her mind, she can't help giggling nervously, because that's exactly what he's about to do, after all. She's pretty sure, anyway.

"Shhhhh," Frank says, nuzzling her thigh and then nipping, lightly. Gee squeaks, jumping. Frank whispers, "Relax," sliding his hands up her thighs, but Gee is anything but relaxed, her eyes squeezing closed as Frank's head dips lower. She can feel his breath on her, such a weird sensation, and then his tongue slides against her, one solid lick against her clit.

"Oh, fuck," Gee says, muffled against her hand, her hips jumping convulsively.

She can feel him laugh against her and he turns his head to bite her thigh again before wiggling to lie all the way down between her legs. Once he's settled, he licks her again, hands clamped on her hips to keep her still.

It's almost too much, too intense. It's been kind of a long time since she had anything except quick hook-ups at parties (and not all that many of those, either, because she's got a rule against sleeping with anyone she suspects may also have slept with her little brother.) And it's not like many guys who are interested in semi-anonymous sex in someone else's bathroom are really going to take the time to do this.

Frank is fucking worshipping her with his tongue, eating her out so slowly that she's rocking her hips against his hands and making whining noises at the back of her throat, trying to get him to go faster. Frank won't be hurried, though, methodically driving her higher and higher until finally the tension snaps and she's coming, hard, trying to muffle herself with her hand, aware that she's making way too much noise.

Coming down, Gee opens her eyes. Frank is lying with his head propped on her thigh, staring up the length of her body at her. He still looks like he's about to eat her alive, his eyes gone completely dark.

"Fuck," Gee murmurs, her voice sounding trashed, all husky and rough.

Frank hmmms against her skin, turns his head and bites her thigh, not as gently as before. He's almost vibrating in his skin, his hands clenching restlessly against her hips. "God, Gee. I seriously fuckin' want to fuck you right now."

"Yeah, yeah," Gee says, sliding her hands into his hair and tugging him toward her. He growls in the back of his throat and slides up her body. Her legs try to open automatically and get caught in her jeans, still tangled around her ankles. Gee kicks them off impatiently, feeling him slide between her thighs, leaving a damp trail against her inner thigh. "Oh, fuck. Condom."

"Condom," he echoes, looking a little wild-eyed. "Condom. Wallet. Shit, fuck, where the fuck are my jeans?"

She's still feeling a little slow and mellow and waves towards the floor, "There. Somewhere."

He drops his head onto her shoulder for a moment, huffing out two quick breaths before he kneels up and leans back over the edge of the bed, fishing around for his pants. He's mumbling under his breath, but Gee only catches every third or fourth word and most of them seem to be some variation on "motherfucker" so she ignores him and pushes herself up on her elbow to trace the curve of his spine down to his ass.

Frank twitches and makes a squeaky noise (which he will probably never admit to) when she palms his ass and squeezes. He almost loses his balance, but manages to catch her arm and lever himself back onto the bed, pushing her down and mock growling into the curve of her neck and worrying a small strip of skin between his teeth.

Frank slides on top of her, warm and heavy between her thighs, and Gee hooks both her legs high around his waist. (She loves how flexible she still is, even though it does tend to lead to huge holes in the inner thighs when she gets a little too enthusiastic with lunging around the stage in tight jeans.) Frank seems pretty fond of her flexibility, too, judging by the way his fingers stroke the back of her thigh, pushing one of her legs even higher.

Gee rolls her back, pushing her breasts against his chest and tipping her head back, baring her neck. "Fuck me," she orders huskily.

Frank growls and bites the side of her neck as he slowly slides into her. She makes a helpless noise in the back of her throat as he presses into her, stretching around him. Frank pauses, panting against her skin, when he's all the way in, then starts a slow rhythm.

She's actually a little sore from fucking in the pantry-- and god, how long has it been since she's had sex twice in one night?-- so the slow rhythm Frank is setting is perfect for her. She has a half-hysterical urge to giggle at the thought that this must be something Frank learned from his Cosmo addiction-- "How To Satisfy Your Lover With Marathon Sex Sessions!" or something like that. "Go, Cosmo," she mumbles.

"What?" Frank asks, sounding amused and faintly breathless.

"I'll-- mmm!-- explain later."

"'kay," Frank hitches her leg a little higher around his waist and braces himself on his elbows, dropping soft kisses on her mouth and brushing her hair back from her face. Gee knows-- knows because Frank will say any damn thing when he's high-- that the second time for him is lazy. All soft kisses and easy rhythm, "like a rock ballad, Gee. Every Rose Has Its Thorn!"

It's such a hilarious conversation to have about a retarded, piece of shit song that Gee can't help but start humming the chorus, her voice catching every couple of bars as Frank hits everything just right inside of her.

"What's-- What are you-- Is that--" Frank stills against her for a second before dropping his full weight on to her, laughing, "Are you mocking my skills?"

"Never," Gee arches up under him, clenching down on him as hard as she can. Frank's breath stops in his throat and one of his hands automatically shoots up to fist in her hair, pulling her head back so he can bite at the line of her throat.

Gee moans, arching her back and tipping her head to the side so he can have all the access to her throat that he wants. She's going to have so many fucking hickeys after this, Gee thinks, stifling the urge to giggle. She's a little loopy with endorphins and still kind of drunk, and it feels like her bones are made of honey or something.

"What?" Frank asks. "Honey?"

For a second she thinks he's calling her "honey," which would be kind of crazy-fast for pet names, considering that she's not sure if this counts as a first date or what, but then she realizes she must have said it out loud. "Nothing-- just being silly."

"Okay, pumpkin," Frank says. He's grinning at her kind of... fondly, and she knows she's blushing again, which is ridiculous considering what they got up to in the pantry not even an hour ago. Considering that he's actually fucking her right this second.

Frank kisses her hot cheek, sliding his mouth back to hers and letting her push her tongue past his teeth to drag over the roof of his mouth. He pushes both arms under her back, hooking his hands over her shoulders, and Gee tips her hips up, expecting a harder thrust and squeaking when Frank does some sort of ninja move and flips them over. He moves his hands down to her hips and holds her still as he thrusts up into her before she can even finish processing that she's on top now.

She gets her hands out from under his back and pushes up a few inches. He slides his hands up to her ribcage, urging her to sit back a little more, and the look in his eyes is more than enough to take care of any residual body consciousness she might have.

And jesus, she sees him writhing around on stage every night, she knows how flexible and strong he is, but it's still a shock when she realizes that he's fully capable of fucking her just as hard from the bottom as the top. Now that her brain has made the connection, she can't help but imagining it, Frank on his back, playing the guitar like a demon while she's straddling him. They'd have to be clothed and not _actually_ fucking of course, because she'd prefer not to be arrested, and also her _brother_ plays bass in her band, but holy shit, just the thought is making her clench harder. "God-- on stage, Frank, with you playing the guitar and me--"

His hands clamp down on her hips again, digging into the soft skin there, "I've thought about it. Every time."

God. That's just-- Gee can't even _think_ about Frank wanting this for so long. Wanting _her_ for so long. He squirms under her a little, working himself up onto the mound of pillows at the head of the bed so that he is propped up just enough to lean forward and catch her nipple between his teeth. Gee is so glad their hosts believe in good, old fashioned furniture, because she's pretty sure some piece of junk from IKEA would have collapsed if she'd grabbed onto its headboard like this.

Gee throws her head back, balancing between her white-knuckled grip on the headboard and Frank's hands on her hips. She's going to have hand-shaped bruises on her hips after this, she realizes, and the thought makes her moan out loud. Frank's handprints on the pale, soft skin of her hips, just underneath her waistband, rubbing against it all day. Frank growls under his breath and worries at her nipple with his teeth, almost but not quite too hard.

Somewhere along the line-- probably when he flipped her on top like it wasn't even an effort-- this stopped being an easy, slow fucking. She's grinding down as hard as she can and he's pushing up into her hard and fast, with a little vicious twist of his hips at the top. Gee's mouth drops open, her eyes closing without any conscious decision.

"Gorgeous," Frank gasps, and Gee's eyes snap open.

She stares down at him and _jesus_ , she knows she's at least okay-looking these days, occasionally pretty good-looking with the right makeup artist and photographer, but with Frank looking at her that way-- like she's the only thing he sees-- she actually feels, for a moment, like she really is gorgeous. "How-- god-- how the hell did I not notice--"

Frank shakes his head, laughing breathlessly. "I don't know, 'cause I wasn't being very-- subtle-- anymore--"

He does... something with his hips, something where it feels like he gets even deeper inside her and she can't think anymore. She's breathing hard-- panting almost-- and each exhalation ends on this breathy little noise she can't remember ever making before. Frank drops back to the bed, every muscle in his chest standing out in harsh relief as he helps her move on his cock. She's so close to coming again, everything is just too much; the thick, hot feeling Frank inside her, the bite of his hands on her hips, the almost unconscious way he's talking to her-- _come on, yeah baby, just a little more_ \-- as his face twists up in concentration.

Gee freezes, her head thrown back, everything narrowing down to the sudden rhythmic pulse and twist inside of her, pleasure so intense that it feels like little fires running along her nerves. She's just barely aware that she's crying out, loud, too loud for the thin walls of an old house, but she can't control it, any more than she can control the way her hips grind down on Frank, hard, the feeling of him thick inside of her while she's orgasming is-- god, _so good_ , so fucking good.

She has just enough awareness left to feel Frank shove up into her one last time before her arms and legs and spine turn to jelly and she flops down on to his chest. His breath is a rhythmic hotcoldhotcold against the sweaty skin of her neck that is just distracting enough to keep her from sliding into sleep. She's floating, feeling like the best combination of drunk and high in the entire universe, and it doesn't even bother her all that much when Frank urges her hips up enough for him to slide out of her and settle her against his side.

She's going to be sore tomorrow. She can feel the ache of it in her thighs, in ten points of pressure over her hips, _inside_.

She can feel Frank shifting a little-- getting rid of the condom, she realizes, but she still whines a little under her breath when he rolls off the bed to find a garbage can. "Hey, babe, you gotta shift a little so I can pull up the blankets," Frank says quietly, his voice scratchy and fucked-out. Gee grumbles a little, but moves so that he can pull the blankets out from under her. Frank's skin is slightly cool when he slides back into bed. Gee automatically shifts so that his arm goes under her neck, her head resting on his shoulder.

"Not really a talker after sex, huh?" he asks, sounding quietly amused.

Gee flaps a hand in his general direction, nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder. "Comfy."

He laughs into her hair, nosing through the tangled mess to kiss her temple. He leaves his lips pressed there as his breathing evens out and the tiny bit of tension that had crept into his body as he'd dealt with the condom disappears, leaving him boneless underneath her.

And maybe there's going to be fall-out to deal with tomorrow-- she's not looking forward to the conversation she's going to need to have with Otter, for one-- but that can all wait till tomorrow. Right now, she's warm and comfy and being held, which is something that she hadn't even _realized_ how much she missed until just now. Frank is breathing deep and even under her, his hand resting warm and possessive on her waist.

Gee smiles, kisses Frank's soft skin, and drifts into sleep.


End file.
